March 1, 2021

Spotter Up

In Depth Tactical Solutions

The End, Poetry

1 min read

Life will end when

the man in front of us

will walk no more,

and so we turn away.

Shuffle along the silent floor

Settle into the silent seat

Now there comes the flickering.

Track the shadow across the wall.

The lion stares with indifference.

Because we have seen him before.

Across mud cracked plains

Backwards walking

In our dreams.

Lonesome hunter

stands possessed

like a rock,

By something beyond experience

And cannot even spit.

Pray that no one ever returns

To this place,

where lamentation runs across the valley

jubilant at our misery.

One shot for our greatest ambition.

Spring will never return

like this again.

No matter.

What

We

Stuff.

The skin hangs.

Teeth once white as tusks

Gone.

Slitted eyes can no longer

Open or close,

open or close,

willingly.

mouth like a lost sea.

tongue like a lost creature.

drowned

Every meal ends cruelly.

The elephant king is dead.

Culled

Stuffed

Dead

And we watch from our silent seat

The flickering

Of light

And life

And death

And tv.
poem by Michael Kurcina šŸ“ø@perryyee

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